


but it's all for you

by honeyvoiced



Series: ❝ been here before ❞ [4]
Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Birthday Sex, Established Friends With Benefits, F/F, Just God Fucking Awful Corniness, Sexual Frustration, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, extremely mild angst, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-10-25 09:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17722568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyvoiced/pseuds/honeyvoiced
Summary: Fallon tries to figure out what to get Kirby for her birthday. Kirby is deliberately no help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Amanda, my personal beta reader, I owe you my life and a premium on your dental insurance.

Kirby’s birthday could not have come at a worse time. With almost half of the manor staff booked off of work, Fallon struggled to balance her own schedule concerning transportation with the already difficult task of trying to pin Kirby down to wring a gift idea out of her.

 

The last that she’d asked, the redhead had been particularly snarky with her - though she was fairly sure she’d just caught her on a bad day - saying something about not listening to her half of the time before leaving the room altogether. Too busy to focus on it right then and there, Fallon had let the subject drop, planning to bring it up at a better time.

 

Tracking Kirby down at the estate was usually easy - when the weather was this warm out, she was usually by the pool, occasionally awake - and plying her for information was as easy as bringing her a fresh drink.

 

True to habit, Kirby was floating against the edge of the pool, her body in the water while she rested her elbow on the ledge, propping a book open in the palm of her hand.

 

“If only there were pieces of furniture scattered around where you could _sit_ and read that,” Fallon approached the other woman and looked down at her, removing her sunglasses slowly.

 

“I got too hot,” Kirby complained, letting the book collapse closed before mischievously flicking a tiny handful of water at the brunette.

 

Gasping and stepping away in concern, Fallon flicked one ankle as if to dry it, and then shifted her weight onto one leg. “Well, can you get out? I need to talk to you.”

 

Kirby chuckled.

 

“A. No.” Pushing the book aside, she floated back further into the center of the pool defiantly, a smirk forming on her lips. “And B., if this is about my birthday, you can forget it. I already told you, that defeats the purpose.”

 

“Well you didn’t get me anything for my birthday this year, so how about you just _telling_ me what you want can be your belated gift to me,” Fallon reasoned. She stepped back a little more when Kirby approached the ledge again, this time intending to climb out. “You’re being awfully difficult for no reason.”

 

Adjusting the strap of her bathing suit top, Kirby pulled the wet ends of her hair around one shoulder and wrung them out.

 

“Aw,” she cooed, grinning when Fallon’s eyes raked over her body as she stepped closer. “You make the cutest little face when you’re pretending to be mad at me.”

 

Gently poking the other woman’s nose before she could react and rear back, Kirby strutted past her and slung her towel over her shoulder, vanishing into the pool house.  


* * *

 

 

Fallon Carrington was a schemer. It was part of why she’d been as successful in her career as she had been, up to that point in her life, but like any good business woman, she always was sure to have a solid backup plan - if not multiple.

 

Plan A had been to outright ask. If she did it confidently enough, she was sure she’d get what she wanted. Hell, sounding like she had the authority she was pretending to was usually enough to startle anyone she worked with into following her lead. Kirby knew better, though, so Fallon mentally crossed the first attempt off of her list, and added a few more attack strategies.

 

Plans B through C would be simply Plan A restructured to involve less and less clothing, the more desperate she became, but the order in which she actually implemented any of these schemes would have to be flexible based on the current market trends - in this case, whichever opportunity to trick Kirby arose first.

 

The next evening, when the two of them were sprawled out on opposite ends of the sitting room couch, she tried her next plan. There was no one around, and the opportunity presented itself like a gift.

 

“Hey,” Fallon started, lowering her copy of the AJC to see the other woman properly, “We haven’t played champagne roulette in like, a month.”

 

She watched Kirby’s eyes light up slowly, and felt a little guilty. She knew that Kirby loved this particular side of her - ready to drink too much and spent a night having fun with a friend - and she also knew that this side of her had been squashed away by work obligations for far too long for the redhead’s liking.

 

“I’ll get the glasses,” Kirby hopped up from the couch quickly, as if worried that the offer for the game would expire in the time that it took her to set it up.

 

“I’ll get the booze, I guess,” Fallon hummed, standing herself up as well while Kirby took off out of the room.

 

Retrieving a bottle of champagne and a decanter of vodka from downstairs, Fallon made her way back into the dining room where Kirby was already impatiently waiting. Snorting once at the sight of the other woman, who was beaming excitedly from her seat at the table, Fallon began to uncage the cork and prepare to set up for the game.

 

Born from an unfortunate mixup with flavoured coffees being turned around once too often on the lazy suzan in the middle of the giant table, Champagne Roulette had been one of Fallon’s much more gainful mischievous ideas.

 

“Here,” Fallon held the still-corked bottle out to Kirby and reached for the decorative glass bottle housing the vodka, instead. Whoever picked the glasses was barred from picking _which_ glass held the vodka. A single speck of dust or off-placement could be all the hint needed to avoid getting ‘the bullet’, as they’d nicknamed it.

 

“Apple juice,” Fallon demanded as the cork was popped, holding one hand out for the other woman to slide her the container.

 

The discovery that all flavour-infused coffees were the same color may have been the start to an awful morning, but the discovery that a wine glass _full_ of vodka, with a single splash of sparkling apple juice, was the same color as a glass of champagne had been the start to the downfall of Fallon’s unsupervised evenings as a teenager.

 

Teaching it to Steven, who, in turn had taught Sam, who then passed the knowledge on to Kirby, had been enough for Fallon to feel the need to reclaim her title - and credit.

 

However, that had been months ago, and since then, Kirby remained the undefeated ruling champion of the Carrington Manor.

 

Filling the closest glass most of the way full with vodka while Kirby filled the remaining ones with champagne, Fallon let her eyes raise up to the woman across from her for just a moment. She often found that watching people who didn’t realize they were being looked at was a good way to see them at their most id self. Kirby was almost exactly the same whether she knew that Fallon was looking at her or not, and it was quickly becoming one of her favourite things about her.

 

Turning back to her task as Kirby finished with the champagne, Fallon looked at the glasses before her, then poured a single splash of sparkling apple juice into the vodka glass. Watching it swirl together before blending in perfectly to the much less caustic drinks surrounding it, Fallon slid it onto the lazy suzan in the middle of the table and sighed.

 

The two of them closed their eyes, each turning the centerpiece around and around slowly - not to spill any of the drinks - brushing fingers and being as careful as possible without being able to see.

 

“Okay,” Fallon opened her eyes to the sound of Kirby’s voice. The two of them stared hard at each of the glasses before them, then at each other.

 

“Can you tell?” the redhead spoke, first.

 

Fallon shook her head.

 

“No,” she replied, honestly, eyes flickering to each glass in the circle as she tried to distinguish.

 

“Me neither,” Kirby grinned, pulling the dice app up on her phone and setting it beside the two of them. “I’ll go first. I’m drinking.”

 

Spinning the dial, both women sat up in their seats and leaned over the table to squint at the phone, settling back in when the digital dice landed: _4._

 

Counting clockwise from the glass that was centered in front of herself, Kirby plucked the fourth glass up and paused, causing Fallon to bark, “You can’t inhale! It’s cheating!”

 

“I’m not, I’m not!” Kirby held up her other hand in surrender, adding, “Just… saying a prayer.” With that, she tossed back the entire contents of the glass, finishing it in two large gulps.

 

“Oh god, oh god,” she hissed, sticking her tongue out and dramatically clutching a hand to her chest as the sharp burn of the champagne bubbles tried to escape her, the cold liquid feeling like it was freezing on its way down. “Okay. Not it. Your turn.”

 

Looking at the remaining glasses in front of her, Fallon pretended to consider her options. The objectives were simple enough to follow while drunk, with only three simple steps to ensure that no one walked away from the table with both their dignity _and_ sobriety intact - in fact, sometimes they walked away with neither.

 

  1. Whoever sets up the glasses doesn’t get to pour the vodka
  2. Each turn, the player chooses to answer a question honestly - no repeats - or rolls the dice to take the corresponding drink
  3. Each player must drink at least once



 

“I’ll answer. Lay it on me.” Fallon ‘decided’, settling back in her seat. Kirby likely wouldn’t choose to answer a question while she knew that Fallon was trying to get an answer about her birthday out of her, and the more questions that Fallon answered, the more alcohol Kirby would be throwing back - getting her closer to her answer in a much more organic way.

 

“When was the last time you faked an orgasm?” Kirby asked immediately, not a single bout of hesitation in her tone. She stifled a tiny burp, the bubbles finally catching up to her, and then pulled her knees under herself to see her friend over the glasses more clearly.

 

“I don’t fake orgasms,” Fallon almost laughed, waving one hand dismissively. “I say ‘close but no cigar’, and get dressed.”

 

Her answer made Kirby laugh, and she felt a tiny flutter of pride in her chest listening to the sound.

 

“Your turn.”

 

Kirby eyed the remaining glasses and then nodded once, resolved. “I’ll drink again. Sorry, Fallon, but I know your game,” she teased, not knowing that her attempt to evade questioning had been a part of Fallon’s plan all along. Spinning the dice rewarded her with another glass of champagne, her confidence growing as she let out a soft faux-cheering sound, pumping both fists into the air.

 

“It’s your turn, and if you keep taking questions you’re going to be stuck with the bullet at the end of this,” Kirby pointed out.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Fallon rolled her eyes, “Just ask a question. Make it a better one. I’m falling asleep over here.”

 

Kirby pursed her lips, tapping one index nail against them in thought. The truth was, Fallon was a much more seasoned liar than her, anyway, so she felt relatively unthreatened by this game of theirs.

 

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

 

“Sleep with someone who can only come up with _terrible_ questions for this game,” Fallon snarked, though the sarcastic little smile on her face turned into a real one when the other woman laughed. “Seriously, you’re basically wasting your turns, here. Yours, now. Drinking, again, I assume?”

 

Kirby winked, reaching over to roll the digital dice again.

 

Another glass of champagne.

 

Fallon counted the remaining ones, and considered her options. She’d have to drink sooner or later, and sooner seemed like the safer option to keep her chances of landing on champagne high. Still, with the way Kirby was throwing back a glass on each turn, there was a significant chance she could wait it out, and have the vodka completely off of the table before she had to drink at all.

 

“What’s the nastiest thing you’ve ever gotten off to?” Kirby set the freshest empty glass aside and evened out the remaining glasses as she awaited an answer.

 

Like clockwork, she felt her mouth go dry - nasty could have _so_ many different connotations. The thought of waking up, heart pounding after dreaming about sharing her shower with both Culhane _and_ Liam could be a start. It wasn’t something she wanted to share with the woman across from her, though.

 

“You!” Kirby pointed at her, suddenly out of her seat. “You’re trying to come up with a lie!” The accusatory tone in her face was softened by her smug grin. “Answer now, or your punishment will be _much_ more severe.”

 

Her words were playfully and dramatically sinister, like a villain from a children’s movie, but it still made Fallon squirm in her seat.

 

 _What’s the nastiest thing she’d gotten off to? Maybe_ that _, later._

 

“Fallon!”

 

“ _Fine!”_ Reaching for the phone, Fallon rolled her eyes with a groan and spun, watching the dice slow to a stop: _6._

 

She counted from the remaining glasses, picking up her poison and throwing it back before she could psych herself out. It burned considerably more than the bullet would have, on the way down, the carbonation itching harshly at her throat - but it wasn’t vodka, and for that she was thankful.

 

Coughing as she finished her swig, she held the glass away from herself while tears from the sensation pricked at her eyes.

 

“Maybe we won’t take it straight out of the fridge next time,” Kirby laughed, watching her catch her breath and finish the glass in just one more sip.

 

“Good call,” Fallon almost wheezed, clearing her throat to try to stop the itch before setting it aside. “Are you just going to skip the question altogether and - yeah, okay, thought so.”

 

Before she could finish her sentence, Kirby had spun the dice again and started to count for her next drink. Champagne. Fallon was sure she must have found a way to rig the system all those games ago.

 

“Okay, Fallon,” Kirby sat on her knees in her seat, grinning across the table. The champagne that she’d bodied were clearly sitting well with her. “What is… your favourite thing about me?”

 

Not bothering to resist rolling her eyes, Fallon set down the empty glass she was straightening with the others.

 

“Oh, brother.”

 

“You have to answer!!” The redhead reminded her excitedly. “That, or drink.”

 

“Well that’s a trick question, because I can’t just pick one thing.” The sweetness that oozed out of her voice would have seemed ingenuine to anyone else, but with four glasses of bubbles in her system, it just made Kirby laugh.

 

“That’s… terrible. That’s god awful. Does that usually work for you?” She reached for the phone without waiting for a real answer, though, so clearly it had worked somewhat.

 

“Hm,” Kirby turned the phone over in her hands for a moment, pursing her lips in thought again. “If you ask about my birthday, I’m just gonna drink.” her tone was rough, like she was trying to issue a threat.

 

“I know,” Fallon mused, trying desperately to keep the smile off of her face and failing horribly.

 

“So ask me something better.” Kirby demanded, “Or I’ll drink.”

 

“You’ve said.”

 

Fallon settled back into her seat to think of a better question, maybe even another that would push Kirby into deciding on the drink, anyway. “Okay,” she grinned, noting the way the redhead squirmed nervously in reaction. “What’s one thing that you absolutely _hate_ about me. Just go for it. Whatever you’ve got.”

 

Kirby froze, squinting across the table at the brunette.

 

“ _Fine.”_ She quirked an eyebrow. “I hate your commitment issues.”

 

“Commitment to what, exactly?” Fallon felt a sudden wave of defensiveness bubble up inside of her. Kirby’s tone had been serious, very no-nonsense. There wasn’t a joke hidden behind it or any hint of amusement when she decided. She’d been exclusively with Kirby for months, now. She didn’t exactly show any signs of skittishness when it came to spending time with her.

 

“That’s two questions,” Kirby reminded her, her voice suddenly much more sing-song than it had been a moment ago. “And it’s your turn. You want a question, or a drink?”

 

“Fire away,” Fallon gestured vaguely, still turning Kirby’s previous answer over in her mind.

 

“Did you always have a big idiot crush on me, or was you being _completely_ enamoured with me a new development?” She squirmed excitedly in her seat, fixing Fallon with a slightly hazy grin.

 

“I think you’re drunk,” Fallon chuckled, reaching over and hitting the dice again before grabbing her assigned drink. Champagne. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

 

With only two glasses remaining, Kirby reached for one and swung it towards herself, twitching her eyebrows at Fallon and gesturing to the other. The evening was clearly over, and the drinking _game_ had turned to just _drinking._

 

Fallon took the remaining glass and held it closer, trying to see if she could tell the difference in the bubbles. Across the table, Kirby slugged back whatever was in her own glass, pumping her fist into the air again.

 

“ _WHOO!”_

 

Fallon shushed her immediately, though they were entirely alone, and then sighed. It would be fate that she’d end up with the bullet. Holding her breath, she threw the entire flute back in one gulp, not two, though the immediate regret that followed almost made her spit everything back out across the table.

 

Icy bubbles burned the roof of her mouth and the back of her throat, the air caught in her system almost making her gag worse than the hard alcohol would have.

 

“ _You_ had the vodka?” she practically gasped, coughing and wiping the corner of her eye with a single fingernail before the reflexive tear that had formed could smudge her liner.

 

Kirby looked at her empty glass and grinned, setting it down and standing up - albeit shakily.

 

“I’m going to bed,” she announced.

 

“Wait, wait, wait, don’t -” Fallon scrambled for her words, her mouth too dry to speak for a moment. “Don’t rush. We can talk.”

 

“Nuh-uh,” Kirby wagged one finger at her, fixing her with a slightly unfocused but knowing smile. “You’re not getting _real_ secrets out of me. I’m going to bed. We have brunch in the morning.”

 

She _must_ have been out of it, if she was reminding _Fallon_ to keep to their schedule, so the brunette defeatedly followed after her, wandering toward the staff quarters. She did feel slightly guilty for getting her drunk without joining her - the least she could do was make sure that she got into bed without tripping on the stone floor of the hall and hitting her head.

 

“This is cute,” Kirby observed, once Fallon had tipped her into her bed and started to pull her cardigan off of her. “You tucking me in. _Cute.”_

 

“Uh huh,” Fallon did all that she could to hold back her smile but it was proving impossible. Luckily, Kirby was too unfocused to notice. Tugging her shoes off, Fallon dropped them beside the bed and held a hand out.

 

“Give me your bra,” she all but demanded, her tone stern.

 

The redhead just laughed in response, attempting to make what Fallon guessed was meant to be a sexy growling sound.

 

“Seriously, Kirby, I’m tired, too.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Sitting herself up slightly, she reached under her own shirt and wrestled with her bra straps for a few moments before holding it out to her friend.

 

“Thank you,” bundling it up with her cardigan, Fallon tossed both of the articles toward the pile of dirty clothes in the corner that (she assumed) was a designated laundry area. “Go to sleep.”

 

“ _You_ go to sleep.” Kirby shot back, though her eyes were already closed.

 

Turning back from the doorway one last time, Fallon smiled in amusement at the sight of Kirby, already asleep. Shutting the lights off and closing the door behind her, she made her way back to her own room.

 

* * *

 

“Just the man I was looking for.”

 

Fallon picked up her pace a little, scurrying down the hallway as quietly as she could just as Anders paused at the top of the stairs.

 

“I’m glad that I’m not any other.” He turned to face Fallon, his tone light but his expression tired. It was only 8 o’clock in the morning - by this time, the younger of the Carrington siblings was usually the problem of an entirely different department of household staff.

 

“I have a small problem, and I _think_ you might be the most qualified to help me with it.”

 

“If this is about a birthday gift for Kirby, I’ve already been asked not to say anything.”

 

Fallon sighed, immediately slouching a little and then fixing the majordomo with what she hoped would be a sincere, hopeful enough look to garner some sympathy. “Can I at least have a hint? Giving advice is… sort of in your description, right?”

 

“No, it isn’t.” Anders had barely blinked, his voice assured, and unwavering. “What time will you need the car brought around for brunch?”

 

Fixing him with an unamused look, Fallon groaned dramatically and then closed her eyes for a moment.

 

“You two have been spending… a lot of time together. I doubt that any answer I could give you would have you better off than what you could come up with yourself,” Anders relented, seeming to feel at least the smallest bit sympathetic about the situation.

 

“Yeah, well, can you at least tell me if I’m way off the mark if I bring something ridiculous through that door?” she gestured down from the loft to the front foyer, turning her attention back to the man in front of her.

 

“I’ll do my best to warn you,” He smiled, turning back toward the stairs he’d been heading toward before being interrupted.

 

Ready too early, and restless with nothing to do until brunch, Fallon resorted to her go-to pastime: Overthinking.

 

She and Kirby had spent the last couple of months locked in the middle of whatever weirdly physical turn their friendship had taken, and despite preferring to have clear lines of understanding in all of her personal and business relationships, Fallon found this one particularly refreshing. More than anything, it reminded her more closely of the relationship she’d had with Culhane for almost four years. ‘Friends with benefits’ was so… corny - but to pretend that their friendship hadn’t been completely beneficial on all counts seemed irresponsible. It was easy to be around Kirby. As annoying or ridiculous as some of her endeavours could be, for the most part she was easy to talk to, if she ever needed. Always willing to have fun, whenever Fallon found herself wanting to relax and let go. The sex was an added bonus of its own category.

 

And the benefits certainly hadn’t been one-sided. Having Fallon to open up to seemed to complete the circle of their social group, Kirby feeling considerably more confident - if even possible - with a solid team of friends that she could actually rely on. From the first moment that they’d really opened up with one another, neither of them strangers to trauma, Fallon had noted the other woman sleeping in less, acting more positively, and losing the fight or flight reflex that seemed to kick into overdrive too often.

 

She knew that work distractions had kept her away from Kirby more than the two of them had been used to. They’d jumped in so quickly and fully in the beginning, spending so much time together almost every day that the staff around the manor were growing confused. Now, even in the time they did spend together, Fallon knew she was distracted, and she knew that Kirby could see it.

 

Kirby swore that first time Fallon had asked, that she’d already given her plenty of ideas for a birthday gift, and she wouldn’t be giving her any more. She was fairly certain that this game was punishment for being too in her own head to properly pay attention to her the last couple of weeks.

 

Still, she’d come up with something. She always did.

 

* * *

 

Kirby was awake just two hours later, immediately making her way up to Fallon’s room.

 

“Hey,” she greeted, staring down at her phone as she turned into the doorway and knocked against the frame in warning. “Can I borrow your Manolo Blahniks? The purple ones?”

 

Fallon stood in front of her full-length mirror, critiquing two different handbags against her jacket thoughtfully. Without looking up, she rolled her eyes.

 

“They’re _eggplant_ and no, not with those pants, you can’t. Take the navy leathers.”

 

Kirby shuffled into the room, finally lowering her phone and wandering into the closet to look. Fallon had barely moved an inch when Kirby returned, in the shoes. She appeared behind her in the mirror, chin tucking over her shoulder.

 

“The bag, too?” Kirby held the matching purse up, and Fallon looked at it through the reflection instead of turning.

 

“You can _keep_ the matching bag if you tell me what I’m supposed to get you for your birthday,” she offered, though she knew it was a futile effort as she heard the words leave her own mouth.

 

Kirby chuckled, her breath tickling the side of the other woman’s neck pleasantly.

 

“Let it go, Fallon.” Her voice was soft, though; amused. Pressing her lips to her cheek and leaving a tiny gloss imprint, she slipped out from behind the brunette and made her way over to the bed, instead, to perch on the end of it.

 

Sighing and turning back to the mirror, Fallon considered her next maneuver. With only a few backup plans remaining, and the deadline - Kirby’s birthday - approaching, she needed to make a move.

 

“Besides, your family letting us plan the party here is more than generous,” Kirby added.

 

“Since when do you care about more than generous?” Fallon turned to her properly, raising just one eyebrow incredulously as she approached the bed.

 

Kirby’s grin spread slowly across her face.

 

“I don’t. I was being polite. Whatever you decide to get me is fine, just hang on to the receipt.” She teased, though her faux-confident tone turned to a laugh as she twisted away from Fallon’s outstretched hand, taking the bag with her.

 

“Well maybe you don’t need this, then, since you can just wait until your birthday for something.” Fallon’s fingers hooked around one of the straps of the bag, though it was far too nice of a piece for her to risk actually pulling it and damaging it.

 

“No!” Kirby nearly squealed, clutching the bag to her chest and reaching up to press her knee against Fallon’s hip, holding her off.

 

Hovering over her, the brunette faux-wrestled the bag from her, laughing in spite of herself when Kirby flung the bag behind them and pulled her in to kiss her instead.

 

“This isn’t getting you out of it,” Fallon told her, her lips brushing the corner of her mouth when she spoke. Kirby grinned breathlessly up at her and she felt herself smiling out of reflex. “But you can have this round.”

 

“And the bag?”

 

“For today."

 

* * *

 

Brunch itself was uneventful. Without Monica, the entire group dynamic seemed ‘off’, despite Kirby’s attempts to keep everyone up and enthusiastic. It wasn’t until she excused herself to the bubble bar that Fallon rounded on Sammy, all signs of quiet morning-sleepiness vanishing in an instant.

 

“What’re you getting her for her birthday?”

 

Sam glanced up from his coffee and gave Fallon an almost alarmed look, before his surprise faded into smugness.

 

“ _Getting?_ Her birthday is next week, I got her present ages ago.”

 

“Well?” Fallon gestured at him to hurry up, glancing back in the direction that Kirby had vanished to make sure she wasn’t already on her way back.

 

“I’m not telling you!” Sam responded, his tone almost indignant. “Besides, it wouldn’t make sense, it’s a _private_ joke.”

 

“Your gift is a joke?” Fallon sat back, incredulous.

 

“No,” Sam replied slowly, as if she had asked him something completely stupid. “It’s related to a joke. That you wouldn’t get. Gifts are supposed to be personal, you should probably know that by now.”

 

“Well then, can you give me an idea?” Fallon resisted the urge to pick up her napkin and pull at the loose thread she could see from where she sat.

 

“What do you mean an idea?” Sam practically deadpanned his question, his eyes flicking up from his plate to Fallon before the realization crossed his face. “ _You didn’t get her anything?”_  His tone was suddenly a stage whisper, leaning out of his seat to hiss at her.

 

“ _No!_ ” Fallon hissed back, feeling some sort of crowd-hysteria effect taking place. “I just - I’m _going_ to, I just wanted to weigh all of my options first.”

 

“Well you’d better weigh them quickly,” Sam pointed out, as if he were telling her something new. “Or, y’know. Come up with them.”

 

Before Fallon could defend herself, he slid back into his seat and cleared his throat in warning. Fallon did the same, looking over to follow his gaze as Kirby returned to the table with fresh mimosas for the three of them.

 

Fallon watched as the two of them fell back into easy conversation, letting herself fade off into her own thoughts - and schemes - for a few moments before she was brought back to the table abruptly.

 

“I feel like a third wheel without Monica here,” Sam complained, swirling the remainder of his mimosa in its flute.

 

“Aw,” Kirby reached over and patted his wrist, comfortingly. “Don’t do that. She’ll be back tomorrow. Besides, you can’t third wheel without a couple.”

 

Fallon’s eyes flicked sharply up to Kirby’s face, but she wasn’t looking at her. Her comment made Sam chuckle, though, the two of them trading remaining bites of food without a care in the world.

 

That had… stung, surprisingly. They _weren’t_ a couple, but to just _say it_ like that, _out loud_ seemed almost harsh. Sure, they weren’t dating, but they’d come together, hadn’t they? Late, due to a mid-morning makeout session, even.

 

Still, it wasn’t like she had the time for a relationship, anyway - nor was she sure if she could even really maintain one anymore, at least where she was now. And maybe Kirby not expecting anything was a blessing, not an insult. What they were doing worked just fine, clearly for both of them, so there was no point pushing. Rushing into things with people in the past had never worked out well in Fallon’s favour. It took up a lot of her energy to try to avoid becoming too bitter on the outside.

 

Watching as Kirby and Sam split the last croissant from the plate in the middle of the table, Fallon stood up and picked up her jacket.

 

“I have to make a call. I’ll meet you at the car.”

 

Kirby looked up at her from her seat, and just like every time, Fallon felt a distinct tug in her chest to lean over and kiss her in parting. And, just like each time that Fallon remembered exactly where they were, she stopped herself, settling for a quick, almost tight smile, instead, before making her way toward the exit.

 

* * *

 

Having both over-indulged during brunch, Fallon and Kirby both stumbled tiredly into the manor upon arriving and silently decided that a rest period was necessary. It was rare for Kirby to actually get Fallon to herself for an afternoon, lately, and she tried to dull her enthusiasm at the mere suggestion of laying down together. Not wanting to be found by any of the slim remaining staff, the living room was crossed off of the list immediately. Not wanting to be easily found at all, however, led them to one of the smaller guest rooms.

 

“I can never look at crepes again,” Kirby groaned, flopping face down, fully dressed onto the rarely-touched bed.

 

“I don’t believe you,” Fallon hummed, a tiny smirk of amusement crossing her face as she undid her jacket and stepped out of her heels.

 

Lifting her head, just a little, Kirby amended: “Okay, I don’t think I can look at crepes for two weeks.”

 

“Darn, that’s what I was going to get you for your birthday,” Fallon mocked, working at undoing her scarf, next.

 

“Maybe I can make an exception, then.” Kirby rolled onto her back and grinned across the room at the other woman as she approached.

 

“Or,” Fallon suggested lightly, stepping between Kirby’s knees hanging over the side of the mattress, “You could give me an even better idea.”

 

“What kind of crepes?” Kirby asked, eyes dropping to the other woman’s hands as they reached out and started unzipping her own jacket for her.

 

“Strawberry.”

 

“Oh, well, that’s easy then. I like raspberry better.”

 

Fallon’s fingers paused their task for a moment. “You’re not funny,” she deadpanned.

 

“So you’ve said.” Kirby sat up a little, wiggling out of the jacket so that Fallon could toss it aside, before flopping down onto her back again expectantly.

 

Climbing up beside her, Fallon sunk her weight onto one hand and sighed.

 

“You really aren’t going to help me?” Reaching over, she gently straightened the hem of Kirby’s shirt that had ridden up, brushing her fingers softly over her stomach before pulling her hand away. The other woman’s breath caught in her throat before she answered:

 

“No.”

 

“No?” Fallon repeated, sliding her weight down to lay next to her, instead. Propped on her elbow, she used her free hand to slide across the other woman’s torso and wrap around her hip, pulling her a half inch closer. “Not even if I ask… _really_ nicely?”

 

She lifted her gaze to Kirby’s eyes, but the other woman was staring at her lips, instead.

 

“It couldn’t hurt to try,” Kirby suggested.

 

Smiling before closing the space between them, Fallon tightened her fingers against the other woman’s waist and kissed her. She’d almost meant it as a trick; a gesture to coax an answer out of the woman underneath her, but Fallon immediately felt herself getting lost in it. Bringing a hand up to her face, she brushed her thumb across her cheek lightly and then slid her fingers behind the nape of her neck to pull her closer, feeling a swell of urgency pass over her when she felt Kirby’s hands sliding up to meet her waist.

 

Feeling herself practically becoming hypnotized by the way Kirby slid her leg up between Fallon’s, she regained her sense of control and abruptly rolled them, straddling the redhead and sitting upright.

 

The two of them stared at each other, breathless, for a moment, before Kirby moved to rest her hands against Fallon’s thighs. Grabbing them both surprisingly quickly, Fallon pinned them on either side of her head.

 

“Ah, ah.” She leaned down and crushed her lips to Kirby’s again, tightening her legs around her hips to hold her still.

 

Feeling the redhead roll her hips experimentally from where she was pinned, Fallon dragged her lips down toward her jaw. Nipping surprisingly sharply at her ear caused her to gasp, loudly, her back suddenly arching as best it could in her position.

 

“Feeling helpful?” Fallon practically purred, planting an apologetic kiss just below her ear and then beginning to work an agonizingly soft path down her neck.

 

“Feeling something, alright,” Kirby breathed, though the usual playful lightness was clearly beginning to slip away from her voice while Fallon gently pushed the bottom of her shirt up.

 

“Hm,” Fallon pretended to consider this, before teasing, “I think I’d be able to concentrate on what I’m doing a lot better if I wasn’t busy worrying about finding you a gift.”

 

She traced the very tip of her index fingernail in a slow circle around the other woman’s navel before flattening her palm to her stomach and letting her fingers crawl downward toward the hem of her pants.

 

“It’s sweet of you to finally want to listen to me,” Kirby hummed, slipping one hand up into Fallon’s hair to try to anchor her closer.

 

“I always listen to you.” Fallon traced two fingers along the waistband of the material, lifting her head just enough to kiss the other woman again, briefly, before returning to her neck.

 

“Then you already know what I want,” she sighed, tilting her head back as Fallon finally slid her hand into her underwear.

 

Despite Kirby’s immediate movement to adjust Fallon’s hand against her, she held still, watching as the redhead grew impatient. The realization that Fallon’s fingers being just out of reach from where she wanted them was a deliberate choice made her open her eyes to see the brunette smiling wickedly down at her.

 

“Fallon.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“No,” she squirmed again, feeling her heart drop when Fallon pulled her hand free completely, placing it on the other side of her to balance herself.

 

“Then…” Fallon sighed softly, like the turn of events was equally as disappointing for her. “You have a good nap.” She was off of the bed before Kirby could even blink.

 

“Wait -” she protested, watching as Fallon grabbed her jacket from the chair near the bed and slung it over one shoulder. “You can’t be serious -”

 

But before she could finish her complaint, Fallon had crossed the room and let herself out, humming innocently to herself.

 

* * *

 

As she headed toward the main staircase, Fallon passed the spot that Kirby had thrown the - too expensive to be manhandled - handbag that Fallon had lent to her for brunch. Concerned that it might have been damaged, she approached the abandoned accessory slowly, like one would a stray dog, and gently reached for the handle.

 

Tugging it up into her hand, she turned it over each direction to check for any scuffs, and just as she was about to finish her examination, relieved that it seemed to be perfectly intact, a loud clattering on the floor at her feet caused her to jump.

 

The guilty party in startling her had been a phone, likely Kirby’s, that she must have dumped out of the purse without realizing. Scooping it up to check that it also hadn’t been damaged either, Fallon went to tuck it back into the purse and paused.

 

She’d just check if it _was_ Kirby’s. It could have been a coincidence. The lock screen, when she pressed down on the home button, lit up to a photo of Sam and the dog. Okay, so it was Kirby’s phone. She clicked the button again and froze on the spot, watching as the screen faded into the home screen - unlocked, unprotected, out in the open.

 

Well, that was on Kirby, really, for making such a poor security decision. _Especially_ if she had been trying to involve herself in the world of social media influencing.

 

Glancing around behind herself to make sure no one was about to interrupt, Fallon hit ‘messages’ and scrolled to look for a familiar name. Sam seemed like the obvious choice, but just as Fallon began to scroll through their text thread to find an answer, the screen lit up with an incoming call from the man himself.

 

Trying to find the volume switch before Kirby could be alerted, Fallon fumbled with the loudly ringing phone for a moment in a panic before answering.

 

“Uh… hello?”

 

“Hi?” Sam’s voice was distant, and tinny - probably driving.

 

“Kirby’s phone,” Fallon chirped, trying to sound as casual and unrattled as possible.

 

“Fallon? Why do you have her phone?”

 

“I… just picked it up. She left it in the foyer, I was on my way to give it back to her.”

 

“Okay… can I talk to her?”

 

Fallon felt her clear view of her prize - the answer - was fading quickly. There was no way that Kirby would leave her phone unlocked in the future once Fallon returned it to her, and it was starting to feel like it was her last resort.

 

“She’s sleeping, right now. Why don’t you call her back?” She tried to lie, quickly, shifting to hide in the kitchen, and keeping her volume low.

 

“Is that why you’re whispering?” Sam deadpanned, and even without him there in front of her, Fallon could practically _hear_ the unimpressed look on the man’s face. “Are you sure you’re not going through her phone, because you’re striking out on this whole birthday thing?”

 

Fallon relented.

 

“Well she won’t _tell me_ !” She all but whined, “And before you say anything, yes, I’ve tried _everything,_ trust me.”

 

“I don’t need to know that!” Sam almost cut her off, the distaste in his voice evident. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a little far?”

 

“I’m leaving no opportunity untouched,” Fallon defended, crossing her free arm across her chest, as if he could see her.

 

“This is Kirby. _Your_ Kirby. Not a business deal,” he reasoned. She knew he was right, but admitting that this oversight came down to being entirely her fault wasn’t on her agenda. “Now go put her phone back, _without_ snooping, and _maybe_ I won’t tell her what you were up to.”

 

“But -”

 

“I’m serious, Fallon. Think about how mad you’d be if the tables were turned.”

 

There was a thick silence on the line for a moment before Fallon sighed.

 

“ _Fine._ But if you tell her, I’m not responsible for what happens to you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Before she could threaten him any further, he hung up on her and Fallon was left holding the semi-stolen phone guiltily.

  
She turned it over in her hands a couple of times before putting it back into the handbag and carrying both back out to the foyer. She was smart enough to figure this out on her own. Sam was right, it was _her_ Kirby, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Dom for beta-testing this chapter for me!

Usually, shopping calmed Fallon down. It was an easy way to compartmentalize whatever she was trying to think her way through, at the time, in most cases: a simple task that could be solved by quite literally throwing money at it. The problem wasn’t usually shopping itself, though, so Fallon found herself less and less comforted by the idea of the day she had ahead of herself.

 

Actually, she had built up so much fuss around trying to figure out what to get, that now she was starting to feel like no matter what she picked wouldn’t live up to the qualifications she’d set for herself. It had to be above and beyond anything the other woman could possibly be expecting, now. She started downtown - gathering ideas, trying to see if anything she came across looked similar to any of the things she’d ever seen Kirby fawning over. Her mind wandered as she passed lingerie displays, jewelry-filled windows, and even a new wine-tasting room she had yet to try out. 

 

She passed by a boutique-esque pet accessory shop and paused, looking at the swarovski-crystallized collars near the open door for a moment. A dog was a better gift idea in theory than in practice. Exciting, and show-stealing, but ultimately just obligation and responsibility with a shiny bow on it. The idea of not giving her any more responsibility actually helped Fallon realize a few more potential ideas to cross off of her mental Pinterest board. No car - keeping it insured and plated would be a disaster. Nothing alive - too much work. Nothing  _ too  _ sexy - it definitely left too much room to feel obligated. 

 

It would have to be something material. Turning on her heel and heading back down the street the way she had come, Fallon sighed defeatedly to herself. The party was the next night. She’d have to come up with something better and stall with something else in the meantime.

 

* * *

Kirby felt like a VIP from the moment she stepped out of Sam’s room. 

The beauty team that he’d hand-picked had spent what  _ felt  _ like too long on her makeup, but when she caught sight of herself in the ornate mirror in the hallway toward the stairs, she immediately felt affirmed in the choice. 

“You ready to go down there?” Sam gestured toward the staircase. Kirby couldn’t see over the rail from where she stood, but the crowd of people mingling below was loud. While she may not have had too many friends in Atlanta, Sam had gone all-out with the guest list, filling Carrington manor with everyone from influencers to designers. 

“I think so. Where’s Fallon?”

“Fashionably late. To be expected.” Sam linked his arm with Kirby’s and gave her a quick reassuring smile before leading the way to the staircase. “Knowing her, she’s probably still working.”

He found them shots almost immediately, bringing her glass after glass, and stranger after stranger to wish her a happy birthday - and the way that Monica included her in every conversation with her own friends made Kirby feel less out of place with each passing moment. By the time Fallon actually did make her appearance, Kirby had forgotten her mild annoyance and shifted into buzzed and happy. 

Fallon spotted her first, weaving through the throng of people to come up and tap her on the shoulder.

Whirling around, the redhead adjusted her eyes on the other woman, and her face lit up.

“Fallon!” She flung her arms around, almost taking both of them down. “You’re here!”

“And you’ve already gotten into the champagne!” Fallon replied with just as much enthusiasm. Her words were sarcastic but her expression was genuinely endeared. 

“No, no,” Kirby waved a hand. “Well. A little. I’m just excited! I didn’t know when you were coming.”

“I live here,” Fallon reminded her. “I’d have to come home eventually.”

Kirby’s train of thought veered off the tracks as her gaze dropped to the box tucked under Fallon’s arm.

“Is that for me?” she reached out with one hand but Fallon twisted away a little, holding it out of her reach.

“Ah, ah. Do you have any idea how rude it is to open your gifts this early in the night? In front of everyone?”

Kirby levelled her gaze with her and smirked. “C’mon.”

“No! And I have to go get changed before anyone sees me, anyway. You can have your gift  _ later.”  _

The brunette hiked the box up a little more, now holding it protectively in both hands, rolling her eyes when Kirby twitched her eyebrows at her suggestively. 

“I’m serious. Enjoy your party. I’ll be back in a minute.”

The truth was that the day had exhausted her. She tried desperately to make sure that absolutely everything work-related was close to being finished so that she could put phase two of her gift into action on schedule.

Fallon had already begun to peel layers of her suit off as she headed down the hall towards her bedroom, tossing the gift-wrapped box onto her bed followed by her jacket as soon as she stepped inside. 

Leaning over her vanity chair, Fallon peered at her reflection in the mirror before deciding another coat of mascara was due. As tired as she felt, she still wanted to make sure that Kirby had a good night; it was the least she could do after being so late. Besides, unwinding with a drink (or seven) sounded extremely appealing now that she was in the comfort of her own home. 

Once she felt somewhat freshened up, she turned to head into her closet and track down the dress she’d picked out for that night. As she returned the empty hanger to its spot, she heard a soft knock at the door, followed by the sound of it sliding open and bumping into the wall behind it. 

“Hello?” She heard the panic in her own voice, reaching to slam the closet door shut before someone could walk in on her.

“It’s just me.” 

_ Kirby.  _ Fallon felt a little wave of relief wash over herself before she remembered the gift box - defenseless on her bed - and practically flew out of the closet.

Kirby took in the sight of the other woman clinging to a fistful of her dress and standing before her half-naked, then laughed softly. 

“I was going to come try my luck at begging to unwrap my gift again, but, it looks like you already took care of that.”

Fallon felt the blush immediately heat up her cheeks, and prayed it didn’t travel down her neck and chest very noticeably. 

“Oh  _ ha-ha _ . I told you I’d be down in a minute, what’re you actually doing up here?”

“I just told you…?” Kirby glanced back over her shoulder at the sound of people outside of the room, then shut the door behind herself. The two of them were immediately vacuumed into a near-silence. “I’m beginning to sense a pattern with you not listening to me, here.”

“I listen to you,” Fallon tried to sound genuine, but heard her voice come out weak.  _ Pouty _ , even. It must’ve been the latter, considering Kirby’s reaction.

“Aw,” she half-cooed, half-chuckled, stepping closer still and reaching up to touch the side of the brunette’s face softly. “You don’t get to pout on  _ my  _ birthday. I know that this won’t be easy to hear, seeing as you’re Fallon Carrington, but today isn’t about you.”

Her words were prickly, almost  _ mean _ , even - but the look on her face was sweet. Teasing, and playful, and unbothered, it made Fallon smile almost shyly, despite herself. With a whine, she softly pushed the other woman’s hand away in protest.

“Cut it out, I’m trying to get dressed.”

“I think you look great like this,” Kirby noted, letting her hand be pushed away but mirroring the gesture and replacing it with her other hand on her other cheek. Her now-free hand dropped to Fallon’s hip and pulled her closer.

“I bet you do. Not sure how much the rest of your guests would appreciate it, though,” Fallon dropped her gaze to the other woman’s mouth, tightening her grip on her dress. 

“I have a feeling they wouldn’t mind, but I don’t know if I want to share.” 

The words were meant to be playful, but they hung frozen in the air between the two of them for a longer moment than comfortable. 

“So can I open it?” Kirby cleared her throat, stepping away from Fallon to give her a moment to pull the dress over her head and shimmy it into place. Wandering over to the bed, she reached out for the box but was stopped by Fallon’s hand grabbing her wrist. 

“I didn’t say ‘yes’.”

This time, Kirby fixed her with a pout.

“It’s my birthday. Besides, no one’s going to know that I opened it while they were here,  _ and  _ you’ve been working all day. I don’t need you passing out from fatigue before I even get to see it.”

“You’re  _ really  _ not even going to let me get a drink first, are you?” Fallon sighed, crossing her arms.

Kirby waited, almost holding her breath.

She’d sort of planned around the fact that both she and Kirby would have had a few drinks before any gift-opening happened - but with them both stone sober and sitting on her bed in the silence of her bedroom, Fallon was beginning to feel more and more on edge about her choice. 

“ _ Fine.”  _ Gesturing dismissively with one hand before crossing her arms once more, Fallon winced as the other woman squealed in excitement and jumped up onto the bed to grab the box. 

Kirby tugged the bow off carefully and set it aside, picking the box itself up and shaking it once before catching Fallon’s eye. 

“What is it?” 

“I - you’re  _ about  _ to open it! How impatient can you be?” Fallon gestured at her broadly, leaning back into the bed more as she rested her weight fully on her other hand. 

“Jeez,” Kirby laughed. “You looked so tense. I thought I could startle you into telling me. Loosen up, will ya?” 

She reached over and planted one hand on Fallon’s knee, starting to jostle her but she immediately squirmed back out of her reach.

“Just open it. Please.”

Sensing the worriedness in Fallon’s voice, Kirby stopped teasing her to focus her attention on the box in her lap once more, admiring the (probably professional) wrap-job before beginning to peel it open. 

Lifting the top off of the box revealed a dress. It seemed nothing like anything Kirby had ever worn before - or even seen Fallon wear, either. The straps were thin, almost like they’d been made of cotton that had been stretched and rolled, leading down to a dipping-v neckline. The material was cool between her fingers as she lifted it further out of the box to examine it. Clearly handmade, it was soft, and flowy - an off-white colour that looked like it was already discoloured from years of sunlight. 

“Is this vintage?” Kirby finally asked.

“No,” Fallon sighed, defeated. It was clearly not a question she’d been expecting. “It’s Free People. But!” she started to protest before Kirby could cut her off, “$100 is not a birthday gift, so, it’s only part of your gift. But now you’ve opened it, so put it on. I want to see if it fits.”

Kirby stood up, turning her back to Fallon for her to help with her zipper before letting her dress drop to the floor in a pool around her ankles. Reaching for her new gift, instead, she stepped into it and waited patiently as Fallon tied the extra strings around her waist. 

“Well?” she asked, as Kirby looked at herself in the mirror across the room. Fallon’s head popped out from beside her waist to see her reflection as well. “It’s a good fit?”

She left her hand against the other woman’s bare back, beginning to drum her fingers nervously against her skin without realizing. 

With a little half-twirl, Kirby admired it from other angles. 

“It’s pretty,” she smiled a little, “I think it might be a little understated for tonight, though.” 

“Well that’s fine, it isn’t for tonight, anyway.” Fallon’s hand left her back and she suddenly felt cold. 

“So what is it for, then?” Kirby turned to look down at her properly, smiling hopefully. 

“I thought you could use something that would actually let you catch a tan,” Fallon looked up from where she was still sat on the bed, “for Mykonos. I want you to come with me. Next week.”

Kirby froze and Fallon felt a sudden chilly burst of regret wash over her.

“I… you were saying that I’ve been too busy, lately, and I think I’m getting ahead of deadlines right now so I thought maybe we could take a few days, and just -” 

Before she could finish her (pathetic) rambling explanation, Fallon was bowled over back onto her bed, crushing the abandoned wrapping paper underneath herself as Kirby kissed her. 

“Did you think I was going to complain about Greece?” Kirby asked as she pulled away a little, rubbing a thumb over Fallon’s lip softly where she had smudged her lipstick.

“Well,  _ no,  _ but I -” 

Kirby cut her off again, grinning: “If you wanted to keep apologizing and kissing ass, though, feel free to continue. It’s a nice bonus.”

“You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Um,” Kirby looked thoughtful for a moment, chewing her lip. “I don’t think you get to say that when it’s my birthday.”

“Kirby,” Fallon spoke very lowly, very close to her, fighting to keep the grin off of her face. “If you mention one more time that it’s your birthday to get what you want, I’m going to make sure that every single other day of the year is terrible.”

“Don’t you already do that?”

Fallon jolted like she was about to move to wrestle the other woman off of her, causing her to burst into nervous laughter.

“And you can’t hit me, either! Because it’s my -”

Fallon cut her off with another brief kiss, before pushing her off of herself and onto the bed beside her. 

“That’s enough” she said, though her breathlessness cut the sternness out of her voice. 

Kirby’s playful grin turned soft, and her hands wrapped around Fallon’s arms loosened their grip slightly. 

“Can I have one more thing?” she asked, eyes flicking back and forth between Fallon’s. 

The brunette nodded, sighing and rolling her eyes with a tiny smile. “I guess.” 

Leaning in, she caught the redhead’s lips with her own once more, bringing one hand up to pull her in closer by the back of the neck. She kissed her until she was breathless, then pressed her forehead to hers to look at her for a moment.

“There’s a lot of people waiting downstairs.”

“It’s  _ my  _ party, and I can leave it to have birthday sex if I want to.” Kirby insisted.

“Oh, is that what this is?” Fallon pulled back, giving her a playfully indignant look. 

“Well, I thought so.” Kirby chuckled, sitting up a little. “I didn’t think you’d want to head back down there right away, anyway. You look sort of tired.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She reached over and shoved Fallon’s knee gently, all but collapsing onto her to kiss her in apology. “You’re so sensitive.” 

Fallon broke the kiss with a single snort of a laugh, pushing Kirby away gently. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Kirby hovered over her, a hand on either side of her head. “But I promise not to tell anyone.”

Fallon breathed a mock sigh of relief, making the other woman laugh. 

“I thought we were supposed to be having sex. Birthday sex, specifically. All you’re doing is making fun of me.”

“It’s the perfect foreplay,” Kirby countered, leaning down and kissing Fallon again, though this time it was more urgent. 

Almost gasping between kisses, Fallon pulled Kirby down against herself more, then reached both hands up to hike her new dress up. Taking the hint, she sat up a little to pull it up over her head and gently toss it aside, only to be toppled over onto her back. 

“It doesn’t qualify as birthday sex if you’re on top, I don’t think.” Fallon mused, pushing her legs open and crawling up between them. 

“I hope you know you still have to separately make it up to me for the other day.” Kirby sighed, smiling when Fallon pulled back just before kissing her. “For being a tease?” she reminded her.

“Oh. No, I’m not making up anything, for that. You were being deliberately difficult. You deserved it.”

“Fallon, if I walked away every time  _ you  _ were being difficult, you’d never get off again.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’re so fond of me,” Fallon teased, kissing her chest softly and then beginning to work her way down. 

She took her time, dragging her lips across her bare chest while she held her waist. She hadn’t really realized, even with Kirby complaining, just how long it had actually been. She’d sort of blown off the ‘benefits’ part of friends with benefits without noticing. The wait had been worth it, though, and without the same weight of work stress weighing her down, Fallon suddenly felt lighter, happier - not quite starting her home run, but she could see the end to the stress on the horizon. 

Realizing that made her suddenly giddy. Grinning to herself, she sighed out a brief, affectionate, “I missed you.”

Kirby lifted her head a little to look at her and quirked an eyebrow.

“Can you miss me a little faster? Like you said, there’s a party going on down there.” She was being deliberately antagonistic but Fallon still noticed the blush that heated up her face. 

“Ooh,” Fallon laughed, though it was more of a growl. “You are so…”

“Cute?” Kirby started to ask, cutting herself off with a scream of laughter when Fallon’s hands that had been gently holding her sides a moment earlier dug in, tickling her. “ _ Fallon!”  _

Fallon grinned, crawling her way up onto the bed even more, despite Kirby’s thrashing attempt at an escape. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that -”

Kirby did her best to grab at the offending fingers, threatening, “If you don’t stop I’m going to tickle you back  _ or  _ pee on you and I don’t think either of those options is very appealing to you!”

Fallon laughed - it was contagious - but heeded the warning and stopped, sitting up a little to grin down at the redhead as she caught her breath. Brushing a lock of hair off of Kirby’s forehead gently, she fixed her with a soft, genuine smile. 

“I  _ did  _ miss you,” she reiterated. 

Kirby levelled her gaze with Fallon’s, the last of her laughter slowly leaving her face. “I missed you too. I’m excited for Greece.”

Dipping down a little, Fallon pressed a tiny kiss to the bridge of the other woman’s nose, then kissed her properly. 

“Good. Happy birthday.” She gave her one more tiny kiss before sliding nearly off of the bed and pulling Kirby’s legs up over her shoulders.

 

* * *

 

 

“How are you expecting her not to fall in love with you?” Monica asked, sliding up to the bar next to where Fallon was stood, watching Kirby dancing from a distance. 

 

“Hm?” She whirled around to look at her friend, torn out of her trance for a moment.

 

“Kirby told me about the trip.”

 

“Well, Kirby and I are  _ friends,  _ Monica.” Fallon reminded her, setting her half-empty glass down on the bar to have it freshened up. 

 

“You know that girl is crazy about you.”

 

Fallon turned her gaze back out to the crowd, eyes flickering across the faces until she found Kirby again. 

 

“How long have you been going out, anyway?”

 

“We’re not going out,” Fallon turned to her sharply, one eyebrow raising. 

 

“Okay,” Monica replied slowly, setting her own empty glass down beside Fallon’s. “ _ Hanging _ out, then. How long have you been  _ hanging out _ ?” 

 

Fallon shrugged a little. 

 

“I haven’t kept track.”

 

“I’m sure.” Monica sounded as unimpressed as she looked, but Fallon avoided her eye.

 

“I’m going to find something stronger than champagne. Excuse me.” Stepping away from the bar and abandoning her glass altogether, Fallon slid past Monica and vanished into the crowd.

 

She managed to avoid her friends for the rest of the party without too much issue, spending most of her evening keeping an eye on Kirby at a distance and making sure she didn’t need anything else. Technically, it was what the staff was for, but feeling depended on was a nice distraction for Fallon. At least with Kirby.

 

As the night drew to a close, a few of Kirby’s new friends started to try to drag her to an ‘after-after-party’. Fallon swooped in, gently taking Kirby’s arm and steering her away while making up excuses for her. 

 

“I haven’t seen you in like… an  _ hour.”  _ Kirby’s tone of voice wasn’t completely slurred, but more so sounded like she was speaking in cursive. Lazy, and a little sloppy, but still coherent. 

 

“Two, actually,” Fallon corrected her gently, feeling a swell of excitement bubble up in her chest - whether it was from Kirby leaning into her side and wrapping an arm around her waist or the record amount of champagne she’d consumed, she wasn’t sure. 

 

“Two…  _ too  _ long.” Kirby turned to grin at her, close enough that Fallon could smell the pure sugar from whatever cocktail she’d been throwing back all night. 

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“ _ Yes. _ ” Kirby’s voice was definitive. Proud, even. “I had  _ seven  _ high balls.  _ And  _ we did shots. I forgot how good shots are.”

 

“Which shots?” Fallon asked, uninterested in the answer but loving listening to her talk. 

 

“Hm…” Kirby looked thoughtful, though the look was wiped off of her face when she stumbled in her heels a little. She stopped them both in the middle of the foyer and pressed all of her weight onto Fallon to balance on one foot and start to pull the offending shoe off. “Can we sleep in your room?”

 

“If you can get up the stairs in one shoe, maybe.” Fallon stumbled a little herself, not prepared for Kirby to suddenly lean on her again to pull off her other shoe. “Or just abandon them altogether.”

 

Leaving both shoes strewn on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, Kirby let go of Fallon altogether and started up the steps, glancing back over her shoulder at the other woman. Messy-haired and barefoot, she grinned, carefree, and Fallon felt her heart pounding in her chest so hard she was sure she could hear it. 

 

Following after her, she let the redhead lead the way to her room and immediately began to strip. The dress she’d worn all night was beautiful, but constricting, and flinging it into the en-suite bathroom made her feel like she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

 

“Well?” she asked, climbing up onto the bed, half-naked, and reaching over to help Kirby with her necklace that she was struggling with. “Good birthday?”

 

“The best,” Kirby sighed, flopping back when she was free from her jewelry, and starting to squirm out of her own dress. 

 

“You get everything you wanted?” Fallon reached one hand out and took her dress for her, tossing it aside as well. 

 

“Mostly,” Kirby sighed, wriggling around until she was snugly tucked under the covers of the bed. 

 

“Well…” Fallon pulled back the sheet and climbed up beside her, turning on her side to look at her across the pillows. “It’s not your birthday anymore, but why don’t you tell me what else you want, anyway.”

 

“No,” Kirby sighed, flapping one hand before burying it under the covers, “I just… everything was fine. It’s okay.”

 

“Kirby,” Fallon’s voice was low, warning. 

 

“It was amazing. Sam went all out, and everyone was so nice, and even though I didn’t think you were going to make it on time, you were here.”

 

“That’s what you wanted for your birthday? A cheap dress and the bare minimum of your friends showing up for you?” Fallon raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

 

“No,” Kirby started slowly, dropping her gaze a little and picking at a non-existent thread on the sheet. “I wanted to… spend it with my… girlfriend.”

 

Fallon froze, watching the other woman swallow hard and intentionally keep her eyes down. 

 

“Kirby…”

 

“ _ You asked! _ ” She insisted, her tone defensive and her cheeks turning redder by the moment. “I didn’t… I  _ know _ . Okay? I know.”

 

“Can you shut up for a second and let me finish my thought?”

 

Kirby finally looked at her, perfectly still and tense. 

 

“I was going to say,” Fallon’s words were almost a sigh, “ _ Maybe _ , and  _ only  _ if things go well in Mykonos, we can consider it a trial period.”

 

“This whole sneaking around in secret thing isn’t enough of a trial?” Kirby didn’t mean to sound impatient, but Fallon shushed her by raising one finger for her to be quiet.

 

“The people who know us know. It’s everyone else that I’m more concerned about.”

 

“So what does the trial period entail, then?” Kirby squirmed a little closer, trying her best to look hopeful.

 

“We can…  _ date _ . And I promise to be less distracted. And jumpy.”

 

“You?” Kirby cut her off, the smile spreading across her lips before she could help it. “Less jumpy?” 

 

Fallon fixed her with a faux-unamused look. 

 

“Sorry, go on.”

 

“As I was saying,” Fallon reached out and gently untwisted Kirby’s bra strap for her, letting her hand drop to her shoulder and leaving it there, “I’m willing to give it a try. If that’s what you want.”

 

“Is that what  _ you  _ want?” Kirby cornered her. 

 

“I’ll admit that I’m apprehensive. It’s a huge change. But I don’t want to pass it up just because I’m too in my own head.”

 

Kirby’s smile slowly dropped, before she spoke again: “You know we can’t go back to this, if it doesn’t work.”

 

“I know.”

 

The two of them stared quietly across the pillows at each other for a moment, before Kirby spoke again, breaking the tense silence lightheartedly.

 

“So what else does this trial entail? Are we starting from the beginning? Ugh, do I have to court you? You’re so high-maintenance.” 

 

Fallon laughed softly, rolling her eyes and shifting closer to the other woman. 

 

“You’re obnoxious. Did you know that?”

 

“Insulting me already and you only asked me out two minutes ago?”

 

“I didn’t -” Fallon went to protest, and they both froze, the realization creeping over both of their faces at once. 

 

“You  _ did.  _ You asked  _ me  _ on a date.” 

 

“You asked me to be your girlfriend!” Fallon tried to keep her volume down, but Kirby shook her head, laughing.

 

“No, I said I wanted to spend my birthday with my girlfriend.  _ You  _ decided to ask me out.”

 

“Please stop, I’d hate to have to kick you out of the bed.”

 

“You can’t do that, it’s my birthday.” 

 

Fallon grinned wickedly, sitting up slightly. “No, actually, it isn’t. It hasn’t been for like, an hour. You’re defenseless, now.”

 

Kirby grinned. “Please,” she insisted dramatically, “have mercy.”

 

Leaning down to kiss her, Fallon smiled and reached out to gently hold her face, brushing her thumb over her cheek.

 

“We should get some sleep. I have this really great hangover fix,” Fallon turned around softly, settling into the sheets and hugging a pillow closer to herself, “but it takes two people. And a shower.”

 

“How have you never shared this secret with me before?” Kirby’s voice came from behind her shoulder, followed by the woman’s arm slipping around her waist snugly. 

 

“Oh, it’s reserved for people I’m dating.”

  
Kirby didn’t respond, but Fallon felt her grin against her bare shoulder, before planting a tiny affectionate kiss there. 

 

“ _ Now  _ was it a good birthday?” she asked, feeling her eyes growing heavy almost immediately.

 

“The best,” Kirby muttered, before Fallon felt her breathing even out against her skin, the two of them being pulled under a wave of slumber.


	3. epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> okay NOW i'm done.

“The Aegean sea is right in front of you, and you’re going to sit in a hot tub?”

 

Kirby’s voice coaxed Fallon back to reality, her eyes opening slowly as she turned to look over her shoulder. Stepping out of the villa and shimmying out of her own skirt, she approached the tub and leaned down, kissing her expectant girlfriend softly in greeting.

 

“The Aegean sea is  _ cold _ ,” Fallon reasoned, when they broke apart. “Hey, before you get in here, get another glass,” she reached back and lifted her own in demonstration, setting it back down when Kirby turned to pull another tumbler down from the outdoor bar. 

 

Handing it to Fallon to fill, she finished stripping and climbed in across from the brunette with a satisfied moan. The trip had been extremely relaxing and stress-free, but after a long morning of shopping and exploring, her body still felt tired and overworked. 

 

Fallon passed the cloudy glass back across the tub, and Kirby peered into it curiously for a moment before taking a small, experimental sniff.

 

“What is this? Ouzo?” 

 

Fallon went back to leaning back with her eyes closed, and a tiny smirk flitted across her lips before she answered, “When in Rome. Or Mykonos, I guess.” 

 

Unable to argue with that logic, Kirby tipped her glass back and took a much more generous sip, setting it aside to admire the woman across from her for a moment, instead. 

 

For the last five days of their trip, Kirby had seen more of Fallon’s bare face than she had in the entire time she’d known her previously. Even today, made up still from their spontaneous early breakfast date, her liner was shorter, her usual lipstick replaced with a stain. 

 

Not one to let her hair become damaged by chlorine or jacuzzi shock, today it was pulled up away from the water, messy, unstyled tendrils falling around her face and neck at random. She looked effortlessly  _ Summery _ , like something out of a travel brochure for the exact vacation that they were currently on. 

 

“I can feel you staring at me,” Fallon interrupted Kirby’s train of thought, her eyes still closed.

 

“And?” Kirby challenged, “Maybe I’m taking in the view.”

 

The corny comment would have normally earned a half-hearted playful insult from the other woman, but with the sun setting across the water, and the light breeze around them hot, she just chuckled tiredly. The amused sound gave way to a genuinely endeared, almost imperceptible smile, though, which wasn’t lost on her girlfriend. 

 

Moving to the corner seat, Kirby stretched her legs across and rested them next to Fallon, leaning back herself to let the warmth of the water soothe her sore muscles. Moving to mirror her, Fallon winced and grunted in effort, stretching out and then giving up and collapsing back in her seat.

 

“Good effort, shorty,” Kirby grinned.

 

Fallon huffed a stray piece of hair off of her face, a caricature of frustration for a moment, and sat up properly.

 

“Y’know, I was having a nice time before you came out here to insult my choice in drink and make fun of me for not being an amazon.” 

 

“I did no such thing,” Kirby protested, her eyes snapping back open to take her in. 

 

“Shh,” Fallon’s voice was surprisingly soft as she laid her head back against the edge of the tub and closed her eyes once more. “You’re ruining the ambience.” 

 

Letting it slide without another playful insult, the redhead did as she was asked, falling quiet and focusing on the way she could physically feel the stress melt off of her body. 

 

“I’m not ready to go home,” Fallon sighed after another minute of comfortable silence. Her voice cut through the low rumble of the massage jets and it took Kirby a moment to process what she had said. 

 

“Then, let’s... stay a little bit longer.” she sat upright, straightening her posture. As if threatened by the idea of compliance being seduced out of her, Fallon winced as she sensed the other woman move and opened her eyes quickly. 

 

“You know that we can’t,” she reminded the other woman, pulling her hand free gently as Kirby reached for it. She was pouting immediately, reaching for her again and this time effectively pulling her into her lap.

 

“What, I’m not allowed to touch you anymore?” she questioned. Her pout was quickly replaced with a small victorious smile when Fallon defeatedly wrapped her arm around her shoulder, continuing: “There’s no reason that we can’t, you’re not needed at the office for another week.”

 

“I just know what you’re doing,” Fallon mused, tensing in pleasant surprise when Kirby’s fingers ghosted from her waist to her lower back. 

 

“And what exactly am I doing?” 

 

“Trying to trick me into thinking that it’s a good idea. But it isn’t going to work, this time.”

 

“Oh, no?” Kirby tilted her head, smiling at the other woman with a slight squint. “I’d say it already bought me two extra days.”

 

“Well that trick only works once, unfortunately for you,” Fallon grinned when the pout returned to the other woman’s face, though it was immediately replaced with a more conniving, mischievous look.

 

“You’ll have to remind me which  _ trick  _ that was, exactly. I wouldn’t want to bore you, after all.” She pulled Fallon almost flat to her, making her laugh quietly in protest. “This one?” she planted quick, messy kisses from her collarbone to her neck, “or was it something a little more… not safe for work?”

 

Her words were muffled into the other woman’s neck, teasing carefree, happy-sounding laughter out of her before she could properly regain her composure. 

 

“Cut it out,” she insisted, gently prying Kirby away from herself and then grinning breathlessly down at her. “I’m not having sex with you in this hot tub. We’ve been over this.”

 

“Who said anything about sex?” Kirby leaned back to look up at her properly, her eyes adjusting to the soft light above them. “I just like hearing you laugh.”

 

Fallon’s expression softened, and she leaned down to press a tiny kiss to the other woman’s lips before pulling back to sit in her own seat of the tub again. 

 

“Fine. How was shopping?”

 

Kirby pulled one knee up under herself and shrugged.

 

“It was fine. I  _ was  _ going to get flowers for the room but you’re so insistent that we leave, so -”

 

Fallon’s voice was immediately devoid of all of the earlier playfulness: “Let it go, Kirby.”

 

The tone made her immediately stiffen in her seat, the smirk dropping from her face quickly. Irritating Fallon may have been a favourite hobby of her past, but the last few months had very much shifted her priorities. 

 

“Okay,” she sighed, dropping her gaze, “I’m sorry.”

 

Fallon stared at her for a long moment, before groaning and slipping from her seat once more, and floating across the center of the tub to be closer to the other woman. 

 

“Look,” she dipped down a little, trying to catch Kirby’s gaze in her own before speaking again, “I’m sorry. The whole point of vacation is that they end, though. Have to get back to reality at some point.” 

 

“I know,” Kirby barely held her gaze for more than a second, glancing instead at the control panel on her edge of the tub like it were the most interesting thing in the world. When Fallon didn’t move from where she was ducked in front of her, she added, “Sorry for pushing it.”

 

“Well, it wasn’t all bad,” Fallon tried to joke, gently shaking her knee when she didn’t immediately react. “Kirby.”

 

“I said sorry.” She turned to Fallon again, finally, plastering a reassuring look on her face. 

 

“Okay.” Fallon watched her for a moment, considering, and rolled her tongue over her teeth before deciding, “Let’s get out. We can go out for dinner, I haven’t left the villa since this morning.”

 

Kirby perked up a little, at that, smiling more genuinely as Fallon stood up and stepped out of the tub, wandering off, naked, toward the villa doors.

 

* * *

 

 

They’d been frequenting the same beach-front restaurant for most of the ‘date nights’ that they’d been on throughout the week. Fallon had found it, and Kirby had been so blown away from that first night alone, that it had turned into ‘their spot’ - at least that’s what Kirby had been calling it.

With both of the women settled comfortably on the padded circular bench that was serving as their table, they reached across each other for different trays and exchanged bites of food until they were both full. 

“Pass me that, please,” Fallon covered her mouth with one hand, pointing with the other and then grinning when Kirby faked her out before giving her the piece.

“Open up.”

“You’re not feeding me.”

“Why not!” Kirby laughed more than she spoke, pulling Fallon’s free hand away softly and leaning in closer. 

Giving up on protesting, too tired from the food, and booze, and sun, the brunette rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, resisting the urge to bite the other woman’s fingers out of spite. 

“See? Delicious,” Kirby grinned and sat back to reach for another bite herself.

“And I didn’t even have to do the work myself, wow.”

Kirby almost responded with a quip about how she could have the same treatment every day if they didn’t leave, but let the comment die in her throat. Fallon was in one of her rare, but surprisingly sweet moods, and Kirby didn’t want to annoy her any more than she already had, earlier. 

Still, she couldn’t help but notice just how much more frequent her good attitude had been since they’d arrived on the island. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Fallon’s voice cut into her thoughts, and she shook her head, blinking in confusion for a moment before answering her. 

“You. Here.” she smiled a little, hoping that it would signal to the other woman that she came in peace - no more arguments about staying longer than they had. 

Fallon simply hummed in response, sipping her drink before settling back happily against the cushions. 

“How nice your hair looks when you wear it natural like that,” Kirby continued, setting the now mostly empty tray of food aside and sliding closer across the cushion, “and waking up in our  _ own  _ room. Without any of our parents lurking around nearby.”

_ That  _ one got a tiny laugh out of her, the brunette stretching out like a content cat before closing her eyes and listening to the sound of the water crashing up against the rocks of the wall that they were next to. 

“We’ll come back,” Fallon promised, not opening her eyes. “Or better yet, go somewhere new.”

Kirby hummed, leaning her weight onto one hand and admiring the view for a moment before looking at the brunette once more.

“I like it  _ here _ , though.” 

“ _ Here  _ is just one place out of a billion,” Fallon reminded her.

“Yeah, but it’s significant, now. It’s the first place that I was your girlfriend.”

Fallon’s eyes snapped open. 

Turning to look at Kirby properly, Fallon sat up a little and shoved her hair from her face to see her properly. 

“You know I’m still going to be your girlfriend when we get home, right?” her tone was soft, even though her words were more condescending than she had intended. 

“Yeah,” Kirby said, slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I just liked…  _ this  _ version of my girlfriend. Who has time for me. And isn’t stressed out about work.”

“You wanted to date me,” Fallon’s words were suddenly surprisingly harsh, her eyes flickering back and forth between Kirby’s, like she was looking for some kind of sign of her backing down. “I…  _ you  _ wanted to date  _ me _ .” She repeated.

Kirby felt her mouth go suddenly dry, and her face must have reflected her sudden horror because the brunette, despite her obvious annoyance, quickly backtracked.

“I wanted to date you too, but you were  _ very  _ clear that -”

Before she could finish whatever point she was trying to make, Kirby cut her off.

“ _ Wanted  _ to. You’re acting like I changed my mind.” she sat upright, now, feeling every hair on her arm and neck suddenly standing on end in adrenaline. “Or you did.”

“Oh my  _ god,  _ enough! Do you hear yourself?”

Fallon stood up, suddenly aware of the people walking by on the street slowing down, glancing at her and Kirby in curiosity. 

“I’m going back. We’ll talk about it when you’re home. In private.” 

She was gone before Kirby could fully protest, so the redhead did the only responsible thing, and finished their drinks before taking the long way around town to get back to the villa. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Did you get lost?”

The first thing that Kirby could hear in Fallon’s voice when she opened the front door to their shared rental was defensiveness. Perhaps taking a long walk had been a mistake, giving the other woman all the time she needed to throw all of her walls back up before Kirby could properly figure out what was going on between the two of them. 

“Hello to you, too,” she grumbled, mostly to herself, but Fallon heard her, scoffing in response. 

“Cute,” she snarked, in a tone that made it  _ very  _ clear she did not find it cute in the slightest. 

“Look, if you just wanted us to go home so we could fight, you’re going to be disappointed.” Kirby watched as Fallon rounded the corner from the living room, a look of surprise on her face at how resigned the redhead seemed to sound. Kirby found herself mirroring her surprised expression at the sight of the other woman. 

Fallon stood before her fully dressed - the light dress she’d been wearing with strappy heels at their dinner earlier were completely replaced by what had been Fallon’s ‘plane outfit’ on the trip out of Atlanta. She looked more like Atlanta-Fallon than Kirby had seen at all the last few days, and she had almost forgotten what she looked like. She was even wearing more makeup than when she’d left Kirby at the restaurant, her long hair pulled back tightly at the nape of her neck. 

“Were you planning to get back on the plane without me?” Kirby tried to smooth the awkward silence over with a weakly lobbed joke, but Fallon’s expression just hardened.

“I was going to come and  _ look  _ for you and I figured I’d inspire a little more urgency if I actually looked important.”

“You were worried?”

“We’re on a different  _ continent _ , Kirby, we don’t know  _ anyone  _ here except each other, and you think that just wandering off in the dark for god knows how long by yourself is a good idea?”

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Kirby stepped a little bit closer, frowning, but Fallon stepped back to match her pace. 

“Sit down. I want to talk to you.” 

Kirby sat so quickly that she winced at the sudden shock that shot up her back. She’d aim for something softer than the edge of the coffee table, next time. 

She felt like an unpleasant familiarity to the situation wash over her, and she gritted her teeth defensively in response. 

This was fine - she’d dealt with a pissed off Fallon more than her fair share of times - maybe not when they were so close, but it would be alright. She’d just talk her down, deal with the situation, and when they woke up the next morning to go back to Atlanta, everything would be back to normal. 

It was only then, that Kirby noticed Fallon’s pacing. 

With her thumb nail tucked between her teeth, Fallon kept her gaze focused on the floor ahead of her, walking a few steps before pivoting on her heel and then returning back the other way. Watching her almost made Kirby feel sleepy, like watching a metronome, but she focused. 

“I  _ have  _ to go back to work. You know that, right?” 

This time, her voice wasn’t condescending. It wasn’t the soft, comforting tone Kirby would have preferred for this conversation, but it was… understanding.

“I know. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about it.” 

Fallon shook her head, still pacing. “I know that I’ve been preoccupied but I’m not going to apologize for it every day. I get that it’s rough, sometimes, but you  _ can’t  _ try to make me feel guilty for having a career.”

Kirby felt her heart fall, her throat suddenly dry, and tight.

“I won’t.”

“But you do.” Fallon’s words were stern; stern enough to shut her up once more. 

Suddenly the brunette was in front of her, kneeling on the stone floor between her legs. Startled, Kirby went to rear back, but Fallon’s hands were suddenly on her thighs, anchoring her gently but firmly in place. 

“ _ You  _ wanted to do this. It was your idea.” 

“It was both of our idea, or we wouldn’t be here. I just said something first.” Kirby squirmed back, standing up and leaving Fallon to balance herself quickly on the table before she could fall over. “And you can’t try to make  _ me  _ feel bad for -”

She stopped, taking a breath to calm herself down, and then continued, “I’m sorry for making you feel bad about working all of the time. But if you’re going to hold it over my head forever that I told  _ you  _ how I felt, first, then maybe you weren’t as into this as you thought you were.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“It is, actually,” Kirby shook her head, dropping her crossed arms to her sides. “I’m going to bed. We can talk about it while we’re stuck on the plane for twenty hours. Then you can run circles around the same thought when I can’t just close a bedroom door between us.”

Before Fallon could properly protest, she was gone, down the hallway, and slamming the bedroom door satisfyingly shut behind herself. 

 

* * *

 

The first thing that Kirby noticed upon waking up was the open window. The gossamer curtains blowing into the room from outside, the seawater crashing up against the privacy walls surrounding their villa acting as a much more pleasant alarm clock than the one she usually used. The window had been closed when she’d stumbled into bed and drank the remainder of the Ouzo bottle from the previous afternoon before passing out fully dressed - Fallon was the one who liked to have it open while they slept.

The second thing that Kirby noticed was… Fallon. She knew that she’d had a little too much to drink after their fight, the night before, judging by the headache she could feel coming on slowly, but she remembered everything clearly, and Fallon had definitely not been with her when she’d finally closed her eyes. 

Kirby squirmed a little and pushed Fallon’s arm away from her waist as softly as she could, glancing under the sheet for a moment. Fallon had at least been smart enough to change into her pajamas. 

“No,” Fallon mumbled in her sleep, frowning and tightening her arm across Kirby’s hip as she went to put distance between them. 

Any other day, the redhead would have been endeared, but instead she rolled her eyes and plucked Fallon’s hand up, dropping it dead onto the bed between them and rolling away to sit up.

“What’re you doing here?” She asked as the brunette woke up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. 

“I was going to sleep on the couch but you were crying,” Fallon yawned through her explanation, sitting up herself and wiping at one of her eyes tiredly. 

“What?” Kirby paused from where she had just swung her legs over the side of the bed and turned to look over her shoulder at Fallon.

Seemingly more awake, now, Fallon had already began to settle into her usual pre-coffee crankiness. “I  _ said  _ you were sleeping in here, and I was going to sleep out there,” she gestured at the closed bedroom door, “but you were crying, so I came to see if you were okay and then you… wrapped yourself around me like a koala and went back to sleep. I figured it would be sort of terrible of me to wake you up after that.”

Kirby watched her for a moment, then squinted.

“I’m not lying!” Fallon laughed humorlessly in disbelief, shaking her head and getting out of the bed entirely. “Forget it. I haven’t finished packing.” 

Kirby watched her walk around the bed and let herself out of the room, followed by the sound of the espresso maker whirring to life. 

She let Fallon caffeinate before bothering her, twenty minutes later, finally leaving her room and coming to sit on the couch while Fallon sorted out clothing on the floor in front of her. 

“I’m sorry about last night.” 

It was Kirby who cracked, first, watching as the brunette folded dresses in what Kirby was sure was supposed to be intentionally pathetic looking. 

“I know,” Fallon didn’t look up, sniffing once. “It’s nice to actually hear it, though.”

“I did mean what I said, though,” Kirby said carefully, not wanting to reopen the fight from the evening before. “I didn’t mean to… say it like that, though.”

Fallon finally looked up, clutching a dress to her chest like it was a shield. 

“You have to let me tell you when I’m upset. Or when I miss you.”

_ That  _ had clearly been the  _ right  _ way to say it, as Fallon’s defensive face crumbled into something much softer almost immediately. 

“Okay. I get it.”

Kirby waited a beat, before realizing that an apology didn’t seem to be coming from the other woman. At least not right then. She’d gotten a little used to it, unfortunately - it was something that they’d put a pin in and work on. One issue at a time. 

Getting down onto the floor with her girlfriend, Kirby reached for her hand, gently prying the dress away from her to set it aside. “And I’m sorry about pushing to stay here longer. It was just… a really good week. I really like it, and we made a good team out here.”

“We’ll make a good team in Atlanta, too, you know that, right?” Fallon squeezed the other woman’s hand once she took hers, smiling a tiny, hopeful reassuring smile. 

“Right. Team Firby. Team Kallon?” 

Fallon laughed, a tiny short sound, then rolled her eyes at the other woman and shook her head. 

“I think I’ve gone all week without telling you that you’re ridiculous.” She smiled for a moment longer before her expression turned a little more serious. “I mean it, though. I know I sort of… inspired this huge crush and then romanced you with the perfect post-birthday getaway to wine and dine you -” she stopped to smile when Kirby laughed. “But I’m excited to start… this.” She shook her hand a little. “In the real world.”

“Well if we can fight like this in paradise, who’s to say we’re going to make it five minutes in  _ the real world _ ?”

The question was a nothing statement, and Kirby waved her free hand as if to dismiss the thought even as she had it, but Fallon didn’t let it go.

“Couples argue, Kirby.”

She didn’t miss the way that the redhead’s smile started to creep across her face at the word:  _ couple.  _

“We’re good at getting under each other’s skin. We have years of practice,” Fallon reminded her, nudging her knee gently. “We’ll be fine.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my dramatic, slap first, ask questions later girlfriend?” Kirby grinned, laughing at the indignant look on Fallon’s face. 

“I’m going to order breakfast, now. You can finish this, as punishment for not even being able to make it through us making up without mocking me.”

Kirby hopped to her feet to follow her, laughing when the brunette suddenly darted up and began to speed-walk toward the kitchen. 

“No, noooooo, no, no,” Fallon twisted to the side to escape Kirby suddenly reaching for her, a laugh escaping before she could stifle it. 

“C’mon, we can’t have our have our first fight without our first makeup sex.”

“Do you think you deserve makeup sex after -  _ agh _ !” 

Kirby caught her girlfriend by the waist, pulling her back flush against her and sighing contently when her playful protest died off, the brunette turning over her shoulder to grin at her. 

“Thank you for doing this,” she mumbled, kissing behind her ear softly. “I don’t think I’ve told you that, yet.”

“What?” Fallon’s back was to her, but she could hear the distraction in her voice. Her hands that had been prying at Kirby’s arms moments ago were now just gripping them to her, leaning back against her comfortably. 

“The trip. Everything.”

Fallon turned in her arms, suddenly, looking at her surprisingly seriously.

“I wanted us to get off on the right foot. I might have messed it up, a little bit.”

_ There  _ was the almost-apology that Kirby had been waiting for.

“It’s okay,” she assured her, honestly. “You were right, couples fight. I am really going to miss having sex whenever we want to.” she paused, glancing around. “Wherever we want to.”

Fallon chuckled, pulling back to look at the wall clock on the wall in the kitchen entrance. 

“We still have some time before we have to be on the tarmac. You wanna make sure we say goodbye properly?”

“Oh,  _ absolutely,”  _ Kirby laughed, leaning down slightly and kissing her - properly for the first time since their fight had started. Slipping her arms around the brunette’s waist again, she pulled her closer and then smiled, pressing their foreheads together for a moment.

  
She felt reassured: for as long as they had this understanding, real-world  _ them  _ would always have a fighting chance.


End file.
